


Hold a Candle to You

by perniciousLizard



Series: Fired Up and Bone Weary [33]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: A brief morbid conversation, Angel (original character), Dancing, Growing Old Together, Illnesses, M/M, Old Age, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-04 22:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15157091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perniciousLizard/pseuds/perniciousLizard
Summary: Grillby is depressed after a recent trip to the doctor’s.





	Hold a Candle to You

**Author's Note:**

> This actually takes place after “Forward, Back.” I had some fire monster headcanons, and then I came up with some bad jokes I wanted to share, so here it is. There aren’t exactly spoilers for the unfinished fic in this, but if you were worried about them dying during the previous fic, this fic's existence kind of spoils that you don’t have to. I was planning on holding off posting this here until the other one was finished, but I pretty much completely forgot this fic existed until I ran across it while posting other stuff, so I'm just going to move it now.
> 
> C/N: They have a pretty morbid conversation in the middle of this.

Sans could tell one of Grillby’s silences from another easier than he could tell ketchup from mustard.  He considered himself a connoisseur.  

They sat together in the backseat of Angel’s aging minivan, pop music pumped in through the speakers.    They were at Angel’s mercy, song-wise.  The family rule was that the driver always got full control of the music.  Sans had done his best and feigned a headache to keep the volume down.  

Grillby faced the window.  Sans compared his silence to one of the less friendly condiments.  Mayo, left out in the sun.

“i dunno ‘bout you, grillbz, but long drives like this always  _tire_  me out.”  Eh?  Sans nudged Grillby in his side.

Grillby turned to look at him for a minute, and then went back to the window.  

Sans wasn’t giving up.  There was no good reason for Grillby to be in such a bad mood. “clean bill of health, sure, but the other bill left me feeling pretty dirty."  

Angel started to burble along with the music.  No one in Sans’ family appreciated a good joke anymore.

"hey.”  Sans leaned against Grillby’s arm.  "hey grillbz.  when you were out of the room, i asked the doc what was wrong with me, and they said i’m not eating properly.  then they took the cucumber outta my eyesocket."

Grillby gently rested his forehead on the glass.  The silence started to feel a little different.    

"The drive isn’t that long,” Grillby said.  "But you’re making it feel that way.“  

Sans snorted.  "at least then you get to cherish every second of my great jokes, right?”

Grillby was quiet, but now there was the sense he was about to say something.  He put his hand on Sans’ leg.

Sans waited him out.

“I know I’m being…silly.  Everything was fine."  

"we can throw a funeral when we get back.  for that last inch."  

"I don’t think you  _throw_  funerals."  

"maybe you just have to throw it so hard you hit something."  

It was just how things went.  Fire monsters got shorter faster than average as they aged.  Sans remembered Grillby’s mother on that last visit.  She just hadn’t had enough energy to make as much fire.  Something like that.

They called it "dying down.”  Sans sure wasn’t going to call it that ever.  Grillby had a lot of years left.  

At first it had seemed like Grillby was taking it really well, but now Sans got it. He had it all figured out.  That sunny attitude had changed the second the doc had told Grillby his new max height, and it was shorter than Sans was.  Grillby would have to chug flammable liquids 'til he was sick to look down on Sans again.  

“poor grillby.”

“You’re annoyed with me.”

“nah.  can’t help how you feel.”

“Yes.  True. For the both of us."  

"ok.  i guess it’d get on my nerves a bit if i had any.”

Grillby sighed.  He patted Sans’ leg.  "Sorry."

"you didn’t care when it was anyone else."  

"I don’t… _really_  care.  And it isn’t just you.  My mother was taller at my age, you know."  

Sans hadn’t walked around measuring his in-laws, so he’d had no idea.  "everyone knows that.”  What did that  _mean_ , though?  Something felt tight in Sans’ ribcage.  "uh.  they got any idea why that’s the case?"  Sans didn’t like where his head was taking him.

"Why?”  Grillby still got to look down at him since Sans was slouching as he leaned against him.  "Oh!“  He grabbed for Sans’ hand and pulled it up against his chest.  "Sans, it’s fine.  I’m fine. There is a reason, but it’s not…anything bad, like you’re thinking."  

Sans lifted his head.  Thick, heavily enchanted glasses told him Grillby was trying to meet Sans’ eyesockets.  

Small cues.  Grillby was blank of facial features, but Sans could read him easier than a newspaper.  

"you don’t want me to worry about it, you’d better tell me the reason.”  He shrugged.  

“I would have - I just - no, of course you wouldn’t know.  You’re a skeleton.”

“who’s a what now?"  

Grillby set Sans’ hand back down and patted it.  "It’s because of my illness.  The bad one."  

Sans hadn’t needed the clarification.  "ok.”

“Our shapes are…malleable, but…still consistent.  Stable.”

“i guess?”

“It’s like a…net around us.  A force field?  Barrier?  Never mind.  Even when I’m sick or weak, I would stay or at least return to how I always am. That…barrier collapsed when I was ill.  There was nothing to…maintain me.  When monsters who haven’t had that happen get older, they have that…thing holding them together until there isn’t enough fire in them left to maintain themselves.  Like with my mother.”  He looked back out the window.  "I, however…get to enjoy being short younger, like my uncle."  The uncle who’d survived falling in a pool of water.  

"guess that’s the reward you get for working and surviving, despite everything, huh.”

“Like you and your poor back.”

“man, everyone tells us to keep going no matter what.  but getting old sucks.”

“Oh well.”  Grillby turned back to him.  His temperature rose a few degrees.  "I have to stick around.  Maybe someday you will…find a new joke to tell me."

"now i can’t though, man.  you’ve gotta outlive me.”

“Morbid.”  He laughed, a huff of hot air.

Sans fell quiet. Yeah, Grillby was right.  Time to change the subject.  "ok. yeah.  uh.  kids these days and their music, amiright?"

"It’s………catchy.”

“yeah, i like it.”

Angel changed the station.

“hey.  not cool.”

“They’ve been given too much power.”

“jokes on 'em.  i like this song too."  

Angel bubbled something.  Sans couldn’t guess very well what they said without watching their face while they spoke, but he was sure it was an insult.  

"don’t say that about yourself.  you’re a good kid,” Sans said.

Angel gave up and turned up the volume.

“my fake headache.  ow.”

“…….have mercy on…your uncle.”

The steady noise from the speakers informed them well enough what Angel thought about mercy.  

–

Sans called out for Papyrus when they got home.  His brother’s car wasn’t parked in the driveway, but sometimes Papyrus would spontaneously decide to run back home from work.  

No one answered. Angel had more errands to run, so Sans and Grillby had the house to themselves.  

“How did your back take the drive?” Grillby asked.

“eh.  could be worse."  

Grillby left for a minute and returned with Sans’ heating pad.  He set it on the couch.

"next time you go out there, might just take you myself.”  Sans sighed.  There was also the option to let Grillby go to the elemental specialist by himself, but Sans didn’t plan on taking it.

Grillby kissed Sans on the cheek.  "Such a……handsome taxi service."

Sans snorted.  He hated when people depended on him, still, but he kept volunteering anyway.  "service with a smile.  that’s me."  

Grillby left to pour them drinks and Sans settled on the couch.  

He still didn’t think the height thing should be such a big deal, especially since it wasn’t sudden.  Grillby had been getting shorter for a couple years now.  But, it was what it was.  And maybe Sans mostly saw the whole thing as an advantage.  No more neck strain looking up all the time. No more being thankful skeletons couldn’t suffocate whenever Grillby just had to be the little spoon.  Maybe Sans sort of liked it.  

How could he get across that it wasn’t all bad?  

He had an idea, but it meant sacrificing a principle.  Those he figured were like promises he made to himself.  Who needed 'em, really?  Anyway, everyone already knew he was bad at them.

Grillby walked back in carrying their glasses.  "What’s on?”

“eh, nothing good.”  He deliberately flipped past a show he knew Grillby loved once Grillby had settled in next to him.  

Grillby snatched the remote away and other than some mild protests, Sans let him have it.  He didn’t mind the show, but he just wished he hadn’t already watched every episode so he could get more out of it.  He did still get a kick out of watching Grillby’s face whenever there was an explosion.

Sans finished his drink and waited for the episode to end before saying anything.  

“you know, it isn’t all bad.”  Sans set his glass on the table and kept his eyes on the screen.

“I thought you liked this show.”

“i mean.  uh.  the other thing.”

“Angel’s music?”  He flipped to a new station.  "They’re still young."

Grillby was messing with him.  "other thing.”

“Your back feels better?”

“grillbz, i’m dying here.”

“…so, dying isn’t all bad?”

“i’m an old man and i’m going to be dead before you guess right.”

“Your need to…avoid just saying what you mean…. _is_  all bad."  

"yeah you’d love if if i was just 'hey grillbz remember how you’re short now.’”

“Yes, because then we’d be done with this.   _Why_  isn’t it all bad, Sans?”  He sighed and set his own glass down.

“like  _i’m_ the one stretching it out.  ok.  what was i saying.”

“…you were saying we should watch more television.”

“that sure sounds like me, but that wasn’t it.”  He shook his head.  "ok.“  He hoisted himself up off the couch.  The heating pad had helped a little.  Grillby had been mortally insulted when Sans first started using it regularly, but he’d adjusted.  

He went over to Papyrus’ stereo and pressed play.  He had no idea what was going to come on, and breathed a sigh of relief when it was music and not one of Mettaton’s motivational speeches.   "all right.”

Grillby stared at him.  

“all right, get up.”  Sans waved towards himself.

He stayed seated.  “Did someone get married?”

“what.”

“We never do this unless it’s a wedding.”

“yeah  _we_  got married.  twice.  c'mon.”  He shifted, awkward, and put his hands in his pockets.

Grillby finally stood up, and Sans relaxed.  "Is this our third wedding?  I didn’t call a caterer."  Grillby came over and put his hands on Sans’ shoulders.  

"you remember why i never liked doing this.”

“You’re lazy.”  He looked down and tugged Sans’ hands out of his pockets and took them in his.  

“yeah.  plus the height thing.  so.”  He shrugged.

“That was an excuse for being lazy.”

“sure, but you should take advantage of me not having it anymore."  

”……true.“ Grillby looked him in the eyes and tipped his head to the side.  "Honestly, do you even know how to dance?”  He moved Sans’ hands to his hip and his shoulder.  

“nope.”  They always just shuffled around wherever Grillby dragged them.  

It used to make him uncomfortable when Grillby would touch him in public.  He still wasn’t the world’s biggest fan of PDA, but after everything they had been through, Grillby sometimes wanted little physical reassurances that he was still there - that they both were - and that didn’t always happen in private.  Sans had gotten used to Grillby’s arm around him, or on his leg, or a kiss on his forehead when people were around.  Something Sans was the one who needed reassurance, but Grillby was nice and pretended he needed it.  

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, letting Grillby drag him around to music since the guy liked it so much.  Grillby had signed up for salsa classes years ago and when he came back irritated because he’d had to partner up with people he didn’t like, Sans had told him to invite Papyrus to go with him.  Sure, Papyrus and Grillby had a great time and really bonded as family, and that kind of dancing was still well out of Sans’ comfort zone, but if the music was slow and his back wasn’t messing with him, why not?

Grillby started directing him around the living room.  Unlike usual, he gave instructions instead of wordlessly pulling Sans around.  Was he trying to teach him?  Adorable.  

There was some frustration in Grillby’s voice.  "……I thought you at least knew right from left."

"oh, huh.  you mean mine or yours?”

“ _Your_  left."  

"your left. got it."  

Grillby sighed so loud the room got hot.  

"yeah.  i’m so good at romance, i’d be sighing, too."  

He dropped his hands to Sans’ hip bones, and then to the back of his sweatpants.  "Hm.”

“whatever you keep looking for back there, i hope someday you find it."  

"You’re right.” Grillby was ignoring him.

“throw a parade.  'bout what?”

He put his hand back on Sans’ hip.  "It isn’t all bad.  Remember?  That was the point of all of this.  To show me that.“

"oh, yeah.  glad someone was keeping track.”

Grillby leaned in close.  His glasses weren’t even a millimeter away from Sans’ eyesockets.  They stood still while Grillby kissed him.

When he was done, he barely moved away.  "At least it’s convenient.“

Sans nodded. "that’s what’s important.”

The song stopped and Grillby stepped back.  They were still touching, but Grillby needed some distance to give him a once over.  

“we good now?”

“We weren’t?”

“no idea.”

“We’re fine.”

The next song came on and Grillby’s posture stiffened.  Sans recognized a predatory glint in his, well, his regular glint.  

“Follow my lead,” he said.

“eh, c'mon.”

“Sans, loosen up."  

"if a skeleton loosens up too much, he just ends up a pile of bones on the floor.”  This was the kind of thing that happened when he abandoned his principles.  All those salsa classes must have warped Grillby.  

“On the count of four.”

“ok.  but if you try to dip me, you’re going to see a grown man cry.  it won’t be pretty.”

“Of course I won’t.  Even though you’re always pretty.”

Sans snickered. “nice line.”

Grillby started to count.  


End file.
